Attack of the Flintstones Vitamins
Scorn has arrived. Blast Off stands in the medbay, looking rather dubiously at a bottle of pills. Outside, down the hallway, are two large, tank-alt-mode Orderlies placed there by Harrow. They stand guard to ensure the Combaticon doesn't just slip away and avoid following her orders again. He MUST take the pills before he can leave. Slowly, the reluctant shuttleformer twists off the cap and stares inside. Harrow said something about the "high technology" pills trying to jam themselves down his "throat" if he didn't take them by a certain time. She was kidding.... right? Blitzwing whistles idly as he saunters through Trypticon's cloistered passageways, heading to the giant dinosaur's internal medbay for a non-eventful quick patch-up job. As he rounds an intersection and makes for the entrance, the triplechanger is surprised to find two large, nondescript tank-esque fellows barring his entrance. Blitzwing looks at one for a long, wordless moment - optic to optic. Blitzwing smirks, then looks at the other in the same fashion, head cocked aside. "You know who I am?" Blitzwing asks. The Orderlies shift their weight nervously, glance at each other, hesitating. As though he predicted this reaction, Blitzwing reaches out and palms each of the Orderlies' heads and smashes them into one another. Their optics wink out and they both collapse into a heap on the floor. Blitzwing dusts off his hands, stepping over the slumbering pair gingerly. "Didn't think so." Blitzwing enters the medbay, smiling. "How very brutish." A tiny voice coyly chimes from Blitzwing's collar plating, two antennas poking out to swivel about before an easily missable little mantis head pokes out to scope the medbay. Hm, seems clear enough. Skittering out, Scorn flits off into the air and mass shifts back into her robot mode where she favors a bleeding leg while limping to sit on a medical bench. "Thank you for carrying me here, dear." Her tone in sincere, though it quickly slips back into a scoff when speaking up again, "Couldn't have everyone seeing me limp about like an invalid, could I?" While a medic tends to her she glances up to spot Blast Off, though his bottle seems to grab her attention more. "And what've you got there, Blast Off?" Blast Off looks up and tries not to appear startled as he instinctively turns to face the two while hiding the bottle behind his back. Oh LOVELY, JUST who he wanted to see. NOT. Regaining a little composure- how the slag did they get in here, anyway?- he puts on a slightly bored expression and states, "Nothing. I was merely obtaining a few "supplies" for Vortex... you know how HE is. With the interrogations and torture and all.... It's... quite unpleasant, and I'll spare you the details. Good day." He nods curtly, then turns around while keeping the door in the corner of his optic. Hmmm, the guards appear to be mysteriously gone- maybe he can just slip away... Blitzwing brushes his shoulder armor off after Scorn takes flight, dryly remarking, "Hitchhiking ain't safe, babe. Seen any of those horror flicks?" The triplechanger notices her limping quite clearly, though, and frowns as his normal jovial demeanour is quickly drained. "Nevermind. Looks as though you've starred in one." Blitzwing turns to grab both of the unconscious Orderlies by their collar armor, dragging them into the medbay proper then unceremoniously tossing them bodily into an already cramped broom closet, one on top of the other. Blitzwing tries to shut the door, but various appendages spill out. With an annoyed grunt, the triplechanger kicks the pair deeper into the locker before pressing himself against the door until it latches shut with a mechanical click. A cat-that-ate-the-canary grin slithers onto Blitzwing's features then, and he strolls over to take up residence next to the Insectifemme, plopping over one of the medical slabs on his stomach as though he were at a day spa and expected to receive a massage. "Ah ah ah, not so fast, Babe Off. What's in that coctail o' yours?" Scorn remarks back to Blitzwing with a smirk, "True, but I know you'd keep me safe." Is that a wink? But playful demeanor slips away at the mention to her leg and she grouses softly, "Yes, well.. that's what you get with defective clones. They can be a handful at times." Meaning, an idiot clone attacked her. Needless to say it's beheading was swift. Looking back to Blast Off she arches a brow at his aloofness, mimicing Blitz, "Yes, I wonder as well.." A glance back to the triplechanger with a wry smirk, the femme speaking up loudly, "You know I heard he had an appointment scheduled with our dear Harrow. I wonder if we should give her a call..." Blast Off brushes off Blitzwing. "I assure you, it is nothing. Merely some QUITE boring supplies, like I said." Scorn's remark brings a quick, nervous glance. ".... Yes, and now it's over. Harrow felt some strange need to single ME out of all mechs, (I have no idea why), but now the travesty is over and I shall be on my way." He starts to move defiantly towards the door when he discovers to his chagrin that Harrow wasn't kidding about those highly advanced pills after all. Time is up, DING! The pills scuttle up his arm from the still-opened bottle. The startled shuttleformer gahs and stumbles backward, trying to shake the horrible things off, but too late- several crawl to his face and ram themselves down the cracks of his faceplate. He staggers about, trying to shake them off and then clutching at his neck cables with a choking sound. The Combaticon finally crashes into an empty medtable and just lies against it, stunned for a moment and trying REALLY HARD to regain some dignity. Blitzwing raises his optic brow at Scorn, but doesn't press the debate despite his desire to - mostly because Blast Off is making a ruckus and the sight of it is much more entertaining. The triplechanger laughs as he watches the Combaticon get beaten up by a bunch of Flintstone vitamins. Blitzwing lifts his chin, smiling, "You want some energon to wash those little guys down with, Babe Off?" "Oh come now, don't be like that, I just-" Scorn begins, lips spreading wider than possible in a chesire grin whilst teasing the poor mech. But she's stopped short when pills actually begin crawling up Blast Off's arm and force themselves down past his faceplate while he careens off. She likes the shuttle, she really does even if he is extremely snobby, but she just can help doubling over in laughter at the sight of the poor mech. She even has to hold her side while eeking out, "Ahaha! Oh, that's rich! I'll have to thank Harrow for this, ha!" Blast Off lifts his head up to glare, seething, at the two mechs. This sort of undignified hassle- the whole thing with Harrow, this debacle, everything... is more than he can tolerate. "I simply need to be left ALONE, Blitzwing. If someone like you is CAPABLE of understanding such things!" Then Scorn starts laughing at him and that is it. NO ONE should be laughing at HIM. NO ONE. He pushes himself up again, still seething. "I am just SO GLAD that my pain and suffering can be on display to provide you both with SUCH amusement! It is just SO..." He moves to straighten up further, but one last pill scuttles down his arm, back to the bottle to join the remainder, and that startles the shuttle into slipping and crashing against the table again. He lies there again for a moment. "It just...." There's another pause, then, finally.... the shuttle emits a very strange sound. It's a ...muffled laugh? There's another long pause and he says, very softly, "Actually... maybe that WAS just a little funny." Then he blinks and shakes his head, as if confused. Blitzwing's laughter harmonizes with Scorn's for a time as the two join together in ridiculing the Combaticon. "Atta boy. Always told you you needed to loosen up. Speaking of loosening up!" The triplechanger taps a button on the flush console that is embedded into one face of the med slab that runs perpendicular to the floor, and a short time later a nurse steps out from the staff offices to see to handling the patient's request. Blitzwing smiles widely as he recognizes a friendly, familiar face. "Stardust! Mech, am I glad to see you. My spinal structure has been killing me lately. Shoulder joints, too." Blitzwing sets himself back down against the table. The nurse, however, looks as though her paint job just went flush with red all over. Scorn's laughter finally starts to wind down while Blast Off recovers from his ordeal, the femme batting away nonexistant tears and sighing. "Ah, that was great." But wait.. did he just laugh? Now that draws a raised brow from Scorn, head canting his way. "..I can't say I've ever heard you laugh. Those pills must be strong." Especially since they worked so fast. But honestly, she's not sure if she's happy with a cheerful Blast Off. Nor is she happy to see Stardust, who's actually a guy. Gaze fixes on the moth and narrows to slits, not keen on him still hanging around Blitzwing. And maybe this was just coincidence, but Scorn is a possessive thing and likely wouldn't listen otherwise. After a soft hiss Stardust would get a string of metallic clicks thrown at her, which roughly translate from Insecticon as 'Get out of here before I cut you.'. Blast Off blinks, a confused look on his face. He pushes himself up again, resting against the medtable while gazing at Scorn. "Not... very... often." He shakes his head, trying to clear it, and rubs his neck. "That... was a fluke. I'm sure of it. Perhaps a bit of tension release?" He attempts to regain his composure, looking over at Blitzwing. Speaking of tension release, looks like the triplechanger may be getting some. "I don't need to loosen up. Looks like you're doing enough of that for both of us! I'm... just fine the way I am." There's some of his usual snobby tone, but there's also a slight befuddled tone there as well. "Isn't that the moth from Empire Day?" Blitzwing chuckles, optics now dim as he makes himself comfortable. In this way, he doesn't notice Scorn's obvious dislike of Stardust - which would certainly confuse him if he were to witness it, as the Insectifemme is the reason they were even introduced in the first place. Instead, Blitzwing stays in wait, oblivious to his surroundings. "That's the idea, Babe Off. Ha! And yes, from Empire Day." Scorn doesn't wait to see if her little threat had the desired effect because once the repair on her leg is complete she stands to brush herself off and snort. "Hn. Well, you two mechs enjoy yourselves. I've work to do." After turning sharply on a heel she makes her way out, feet clicking hard on the metal floor. Blast Off watches Blitzwing get comfortable and Scorn leave. He leans against the medtable, as he is still feeling slightly dizzy, and looks at the "moth". The "Babe Off" nickname gets an annoyed glance AND tone of voice. "It is BLAST Off, Blitzwing.... do try and remember it. Someone of my status should be accorded the respect I am due. I am a professional and should be treated as such!" He looks haughty for a moment, then stops to consider something. There's a long pause and he says, "Though... have I ever mentioned I admire your ability to come up with clever plays on words? It is almost... sophisticated of you." Blitzwing perks as Scorn announces her departure. That's certainly somthing he's going to have to watch. Though once she's gone, Blitzwing scans the medbay and notes a glaring lack of Stardust massage-y.. The triplechanger hmmmm. Scorn. He'll have to grill the Insectifemme about her behaviour later, just to make her squirm. Happy ending evaporated, Blitzwing sits up and grabs one of the tools from and equipment rack and begins to buff some nicks and scrapes from one of his huge shoulders, casting a stream of sparks over onto Blast Off. "I do remember your name. I just choose not to use it. What're you going to do about it?" Blitzwing smirks, turning to survey the Combaticon, expecting Snobbyy McSnobbish to have something McSnobbish to say in retort, but the triplechanger receives quite the opposite, in fact. And Blitzwing stares, incredulously. "Screw the pills. You need a beer." Blast Off has to use one of his heat-shield covered arms to block off the sparks coming his way, and he looks mildly disgruntled about it... but not quite as much as usual. There's still a vaguely confused look to him. "I just would like... wait, beer?" The shuttleformer nods. "I think... I think I could really use a beer right now. Yes, a beer sounds very good." He points to the door. "Shall we?" As he waits for an answer, he thumbs over to the moth. "You... do know that's a guy, right?" Blitzwing PFFFT, "NO HE'S NOT" all conspiracy-like and rushes for the door. The end.